When it all comes together
by SerenePhenix
Summary: Every person had a purpose even someone like him and they simply had to accept that fact. Didn't they?


When it all comes together…

_Note:_

_This is the final chapter to both "Sensitive Re-Collection" and "Tales of a lonely Wanderer". It would be better if you read both before this one._

* * *

They looked at the blue replica, eyes disbelieving and minds denying what was undoubtedly and truly there.

It had only taken a fraction of a second for the cheerful and delighted air of a celebration for their youngest member, who had been amidst them for a whole century now, to turn into the somber atmosphere of people who were certain a battle was coming.

The shock was evident on all of their faces. Nicholas St. North, who had taken a step back with eyes wide and confused, rubbed at them just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Looking for assurance he turned towards Toothiana who hovered a few inches above the ground. She nodded numbly, her mouth opened the tiniest bit, as she caught North's look. Sandy stood next to Bunnymund, who was frozen on the spot his green eyes showing his incredulity and betrayal. Sandman's expression was unreadable not giving away whether he was truly surprised or if he had expected something like this to happen. But it was unlikely.

Jackson Overland Frost for his part stood at the back of the balcony that served as their usual room for discussion. He could see the blue hologram through a gap between his friends and family and for a moment he was afraid he would crumple to the ground unceremoniously. His body felt as if it had turned into cotton. It was only thanks to the staff he carried with him at all times that it did not happen.

The first reaction came from an irate Easter Bunny. The Pooka shook his furry head so forcefully that his ears were flapping against his skull so violently they made a comical clapping sound. The eyes of his friends were on him as seemed to swell with anger, an accusing finger pointed at the harmless picture hovering above the stone, face impassive and unmoved by the strong emotions directed towards it.

"This is a bloody joke."

Bunnymund's voice was dripping with venom as his head whipped towards the only opening in the domed ceiling the light of the moon could penetrate through to shine on the shrine of the five Guardians. His eyes narrowed into slits.

"This is a bloody joke ya' dipstick!"

They all flinched at the harshness, the sheer amount of _hatred _carried in that accusation but his cry was not left unanswered, although probably not by the one he had wished for.

"Bunny!" Tooth said firmly flying over to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Instead of letting her comfort him like always, he swatted her hand away angrily as if it was a nasty fly that had been in his field of vision far too long and needed to be put back into place. The fairy withdrew, backing away from him and towards the others.

This was unlike any situation they ever had had to face before.

Again they looked at what was unmistakably the form of their former enemy Pitch Black before the image of the man in a long coat with his hair brushed towards the back of his head faded away and the blue stone retreated back into its secure chamber, hidden from view.

The silence was heavy making the strong intakes from the Pooka, whose chest was rising and falling noticeably, seem even louder.

It had to be a bad joke like Bunny said. There was no way the Man in the Moon could have chosen another Guardian in these times of peace and even less one that used to scare children, to bring them misery and that had threatened the Guardians on more occasions than they could count. It was absurd even thinking about the possibility. Hadn't it been Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, who had orphaned MiM, who had destroyed thousands of worlds and lives, who had brought an end to the glorious Golden Age, who had committed crimes and cruelties beyond their imagination?

It left them feeling estranged, unreal. This could never be the decision he had come to. Just as Bunnymund, their eyes locked onto the pearly grey satellite in the dark sky, their minds and hearts reaching out towards the one that had given them their titles and purposes in the hopes of getting an answer. But there was silence as Jack gloomily noted for himself. To him it was nothing new but he could only guess that for his fellow Guardians it was feeling like they were being overlooked…or their feelings for that matter.

As no explanation, no words of comfort were delivered they all caved in on themselves a little, unable to think about how to handle the situation.

Bunnymund just stood in place, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glaring holes into the wooden floor, his muzzle twitching incessantly. The other three older Guardians stayed silent. What was there to say to make it less disagreeable? There wasn't. They all had a history with Pitch and trying to welcome him was a lot more problematic than simply driving him back into the shadows while being able to vent their anger instead of holding it back.

The Pooka stomped his hind-leg forcefully on the floor making all of them jump as though there had been an explosion.

"I ain't gonna accept that!", he declared furiously, running a hole into the wooden boards gesticulating with his arms exaggeratedly.

Their eyes just followed him. Once the bunny was 'unleashed' as they often joked, there simply was no way to stop him. Often it turned out it was better he got his ranting; he would always be open to a normal talk once he got the excessive emotions out of his system.

"You know what? Let's forget about it. It's not like we have ta' carry everything out just like MiM says. There's no threat, is there?", the split second he took to look at their faces before any of them could voice an objection, seemed like a silent agreement in his mind. He continued pacing, not missing a beat.

"We don't need him, let's just ignore him and get out of his way."

What he had said made sense to most of them, even to Sandy who entertained the idea but he knew there at least one person in the room who would disagree with it even if his sympathy for the Nightmare King had its limits.

Discreetly the golden man watched the winter spirit out of the corner of his eyes and was not disappointed to see the ghost of a thrown on the younger man's face. It wasn't reproachful, his eyes not holding that tell-tale spark of burning anger, just contemplative and sympathetic.

Jack was not in the room anymore. His mind was back to the day he had met the Boogeyman the last time thirty years ago. It had been a short conversation and indeed Pitch hadn't shown any kind of animosity (although his parting words had left Jack mulling over them for nights on end, trying to find a hidden threat in them and coming up with nothing).

His enemy (he caught himself asking if it should now have _former _added) had wanted nothing more than to talk and for reasons only Jack could probably understand fully. That didn't change his own reluctance towards MiM's newest and probably most hazardous choice for a new Guardian. He suddenly felt rather self-conscious thinking about the others must have reacted when he had been designated. He probably did not want to know either. He could only guess that for Bunnymund he had been just as welcome as Pitch.

He had made his decision even before he could think clearly of what he was going to say.

"I'll go and talk to him."

His words had been quiet, barely above a whisper but he could as well have been shouting. Everyone, Guardians, yetis and even the elves were staring at him as if he had proclaimed he would not pull any pranks on Bunnymund ever again: Totally absurd and never happening.

The only other person in the room who did not seem to be taken aback by Jack's confession was Sandy who gave him an affirmative nod. He had been thinking along the same lines just a few seconds ago.

Once Bunnymund managed to regain his senses and close his mouth, he blinked at the albino a few times: "Ya' pullin' my leg, mate, aren't ya'?"

His incredulous expression was also visible on North's and Tooth's face, making Jack falter a bit in his well-meant resolve. To him it was fairly logical to go in their stead. After all, Pitch had approached him for an alliance when he had been alone (although out of selfishness), had sent him a message through the wind and had not lured him into some kind of trap with it. He at least had enough emotional understanding and distance towards him to have a normal conversation with the man.

So, refraining from slouching he held his staff a bit more tightly and looked the Easter Bunny right into his green eyes.

"No, Bunny, I mean it."

One could even see from the outside what was going on inside the Pooka's head. It looked as though something inside him was crumbling and crashing and Jack felt bad for it but it would not change his mind. In a flash the bunny's demeanor changed and he was back to being wrathful.

"Ya can't be serious!", he shouted advancing on him, his eyes ablaze with a fury unlike any Jack had seen up until now and it scared him just as much as one of Pitch's Night Mares. Oblivious to the effect he was having on the Guardian of fun he went on, "Not after everything he did to you.. to us!"

His right paw snapped back behind him where the others were watching with growing uneasiness the argument that was to unfold. Jack took a deep breath before making a retort.

"I… I know Bunny. It's not like I have forgotten but…"

"But what!", interrupted the spirit of Easter. His fur was so bristled that he appeared twice his size, a truly intimidating sight when it was you he was looking at, "He is the Boogeyman! He tried ta' hurt the children, even Jamie and Sophie!"

"Of course I know that.", Jack replied heatedly although he tried his best at staying calm. What was he thinking? It's not like he had erased the memories about what the man had done but he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt, if MiM himself was suggesting he become a protector of the children. But Bunnymund wouldn't have any of it, he could tell. That did not stop him from trying.

"It's just, when Manny already does give him a second chance, then we should follow his example and talk to him and since you don't seem to even want to I thought I…"

He never got to finish his sentence.

"And since when is it of any importance to you what MiM says!", Bunny scoffed earning him a joint shout of protest and outrage from Tooth and North. The temperature in the room dropped dangerously as Jack's eyes narrowed and his knuckles turned white from the tight grip he had on his staff.

"That," he hissed, "was low."

Bunnymund raised an eyebrow at him mockingly: "So what? Ain't that true? Just like with Pitch bein' the bad guy."

The winter elf knew the spirit of Easter was out for a fight now.

"And how can you possibly know that? Hm!", he challenged, glaring daggers at Bunny, although it lost some of its effectiveness since he had to stand on tip-toes to be at eye-level with him, "You haven't seen the guy in a century! How can you be so sure he's still the same?"

"And how can you tell me that when you haven't seen him in that long, either!"

Instead of seeing the boy slouch his shoulders, which to Bunnymund's great delight would have been an admittance to defeat, Jack's lips became a thin line and his blue eyes quickly shot into another corner of the room. The Easter Bunny felt his stomach drop through the core of the earth. That look only came up when Jack was trying to hide something…

"Jack…", it was Tooth, who gave him a tentative and desperate look, having caught on the silence.

Jack looked her in the eyes and cast his own back down instantly unable to meet her violet gaze. She gasped, understanding full well what it meant.

Jack felt a bit of shame crawl under his skin like an itch. He had never told them. It had always been his little secret and he had wished, hoped with all his might that it would stay that way. Lady Luck still had to be angry at him for having frozen her hair by accident.

"After everything…", Bunnymund shook so violently that his voice came out as a quiver. His green eyes were full of distain. Jack felt like he was back in 1968.

"He sent me a message.", he confessed meekly, careful to avoid further eye-contact, "It was some time ago already. He said he just wanted to talk and that's all we did: Talk."

His head was bent low and he had to look through his white bangs to make out their faces. Tooth looked torn between being understanding and exasperated while North seemed to be just as rattled as Bunnymund who was still shaking. For a moment he was frantically searching for Sandy's kind face when to his surprise he found the Sandman to his right a hand gently reaching up and patting his elbow awkwardly.

Jack grinned down at him, mouthing a "Thanks". Sandy simply smiled back up at him. He would have been the last person on earth to accuse the boy after the night they had spent on that roof. He had come to terms with Pitch and his own near-death experience. That was only thanks to Jack also. He guessed that if it hadn't been for the young spirit he would by now still have reacted as hostile as Bunnymund but he also was far from being at ease with MiM's latest habit of picking the most unusual (might he say unsuited this time) candidates for guardianship.

Sandman's acceptance of Jack's sympathy and his less than shocked appearance at the revelation that the boy had been seeing Pitch in secret sent the other occupants of the room reeling.

"Sandy, you can't tell me that ya' alright with this. Pitch tried ta' kill ya!"

Bunnymund stared at the dream giver with the same stricken look when one of the children had walked through him the first time in centuries. Instead of conjuring up sand images Sandy stared back with his twinkling golden eyes and nodded slowly. Bunny took a few steps back from him as if he was a poisonous weed, North and Tooth trying to approach him carefully while he seemed to cave in on himself.

"I won't accept this.", he said quietly and tapped his hind-leg on the floor three times, a hole big enough for him appearing on the ground. Before any of them could stop him, the Pooka had jumped inside his tunnel before it sealed up.

The silence in the room was heavy. Their eyes were still glued to the spot where Bunnymund had just stood moments ago. The elder Guardians shared a look as they knew what had occurred in the past between the Pookas and Pitch. And indeed, while Sandy supported Jack's notion it did not mean that he would have preferred for Manny to never have told them. To Bunny it was nothing less than atrocious backstabbing.

Jack ignored the facts for he had never been told what had happened exactly to have the Pooka in such denial. They looked at him also, entertaining the idea of telling him so that he would not stare at them with questions written all over his face but the thought was dismissed as soon as it came up. It was up to Bunnymund to tell Jack, not them, even if it would make things indefinitely easier.

Since no one seemed eager to speak Jack took it upon himself to break their quiet mulling.

"You better go and see if Bunny's fine. I guess he wouldn't want to talk to me anyway.", he added, a sad crooked smile sneaking itself onto his lips, "I will be talking with Pitch."

Before any of them could even ask how he would be able to find the Nightmare King, the boy leapt out of the opening in the ceiling and took off into the unusually clear and cold night sky, a few flakes following his path.

The three remaining Guardians sighed in unison.

* * *

Pitch didn't think he would ever hear again from the winter spirit… at least on his own accord. Still the distinct chill from the north wind had reached him not too long ago. That was why he was in this park again, with the bench that had gone to rack in the relatively short amount of time he hadn't been here. It was the second day after Easter Sunday. He paced nervously, not really knowing what he was to expect. Dare he believe that maybe the boy was not resentful anymore and that he simply wanted to have a chat?

He shook his head at the absurdity. He was hoping for something that was unlikely to ever happen. They had only talked once. One time would not change everything. So that brought him back to the question: Why did the boy want to meet with him in the first place?

He looked around once more, first at the line of bare trees and then back up at the sky, either for the white-haired teenager or his friend the blue butterfly. It had just left a few minutes ago in search for a body of water to replenish. Pitch had come to understand what he had first witnessed at the pond decades ago. It was not necessarily moonlight that the beetle craved for but water indeed.

Whenever they went to some place with little to no amounts of said liquid one could watch its glow diminishing by the day. Places that were too hot were no good either and his companion would resume to hiding in his cape while he was doing what he was supposed to do. Once they reached colder regions again it would just come fluttering out again, as if nothing had happened. It still puzzled him as to what was the connection of the two but he had stopped questioning that peculiar aspect of his friend a long time ago.

When not even the slightest of a cooling draft passed over the untrimmed lawn he went over to the bench and set down on it. The place where he'd been turning his rounds was clearly visible on the ground. He'd managed to flatten the grass there considerably, bits of mud on the soggy soil making it stick to the ground. Self-consciously he glanced at the end of his cape to find it, to his not so great surprise, clean and free from any mud that normally would have gathered there were he a living thing.

He didn't question anymore why sometimes he had an effect on his surroundings even if it should not be possible.

Having had enough with his fingertips drumming on his knees incessantly, he laced his fingers together and let his elbows rest on his knees instead. He could not recall a time where he had been more agitated. With a pang in his heart he remembered that indeed there was one time and it had to do with his daughter Seraphina. Lately he had the feeling that everything that made him want to hide in some cave for the rest of eternity had inevitably to do with her and the family he had lost.

He sighed before tilting his head back, his eyes closed. The memories were crystal clear now, no longer appearing like broken reflections. Sometimes when he concentrated he could faintly hear her laughter but at the moment his mind was far too preoccupied with other things.

He snapped back into reality when he heard the wind picking up. His golden eyes flew open searching in the sky. He heard a branch snap behind him and got up, turning around in one swift motion.

"You are pretty jumpy, you know.", said a shadowy silhouette from above the crown of a tree. Pitch did not reply but relaxed. He recognized his voice. Jack had come.

Jack, seemingly not waiting for an answer, leapt from his lookout and came to a halt next to the bringer of nightmares and fears. That was when Pitch managed to see the changes he had gone through – or rather the change in his choice of clothing at least.

Instead of the blue hoodie, that had been like some sort of a trademark, he now sported a long coat, the same blue as his old garment but underneath it was a simple white shirt. Frost was visibly lacing the colored fabric but the boy's every movement changed the pattern instantly, not giving it the chance to become a fixed image. It suited him, he guessed, Jack was after all a travelling spirit that rarely seemed to stay in one place. He was also the most unpredictable Pitch had met until then. What struck his eyes most was the obvious lack of a hood.

Pitch noticed how Jack was eyeing him, as though he was making up his mind on something. He had to admit that he felt… _uncomfortable _with the way he was being inspected like some specimen.

To his relief Jack turned a little sideways on one of his heels, giving the moon in the sky more of his attention.

"You look better.", the boy commented dryly not looking at him again.

Pitch did not reply or make any move whatsoever. It was true. On their last encounter he had still looked ashen and worn down, the thousands of years he had lived finally visible on his physical form. Ever since their short encounter he had quite suddenly regained a healthier complexion. He was still gray and would always be but his eyes and cheeks were no longer sunken in, his fingers not as skeletal as on the day when he'd freed himself of the shadows in his heart.

He guessed that, yes, he was doing a lot better although he still ignored why. Maybe because he had a growing influence on children? Ridiculous. Even now, they barely believed in him.

The winter elf gave a loud sigh, running a hand through his snow-white hair. Snow began gently drifting towards the ground but melted as soon as it touched it. It wasn't cold enough anymore. Winter was long over in this region.

Nodding once vigorously Jack turned back towards him.

"You've been chosen.", he said face as serious as on the day when he had told him he wouldn't join his old self on his quest to bring an end to the Guardians.

Pitch stared at him confused. "Chosen for what?", he asked, frowning at the boy. What Jack had just said didn't really make any sense to him.

Jack was agitated and when he saw Pitch's questioning gaze he silently cursed under his breath for no reason. It just made Pitch all the more weary. What had transpired for the boy to be so high-strung? It wasn't like he hadn't been tense on their last meeting already but this was a whole new level.

Seeing that his cursing wouldn't make things better for him or for the other Guardians Jack just came to the point: "Pitch Black,…"

"Just Pitch.", the Boogeyman interrupted quickly but with little emotion. Jack glared at him for a second before shrugging it off.

"Well, _Pitch_, congratulations, you have been chosen as a Guardian."

Jack could as well have read out a funeral oration with his tone of voice. He frowned, unhappy and waiting for a reaction from Pitch. He had departed with the intention of at least trying to be nice to Pitch (something he was sure he had done by telling him he was not looking like a walking corpse anymore) but his worry for Bunny was making him irritable.

He felt bad for his brother-figure and he knew that him meeting with Pitch was not really helping his friend's situation.

When he received no answer for a long time (which had actually been not more than a few seconds) he looked back at the man, ready to _make_ him say something if necessary. Any words he might have had ready to throw at the others' head died in his throat.

Pitch looked like he had suffered some serious stroke. His eyes were wide open but glazed over, definitely not seeing his surroundings anymore. Jack couldn't even tell if he was breathing. He looked as lifeless like one of those ice statues North liked to make as a model for toys.

The minutes ticked by while Pitch was trying to make sense of what he'd just been told.

There was only one person that could choose a Guardian. He turned towards the moon, which was once again full and bright. His throat had to be clogged up with something because he couldn't make a single sound. He just stared, bewildered. Had he been forgiven? But why? He couldn't think of anything he had done to deserve it and even less the position he had been offered by the man he had stolen his family from.

"We were just as surprised as you.", Jack added quietly also looking at the satellite. Pitch stared at him for a moment but was unable to reply still. The winter elf went on.

"It came out of the blue. We were at the Pole and suddenly he sent one of his moonbeams to declare that you were to become one of us. I do not think I have to tell you that most of us were not too thrilled about the news."

His face was somber, his eyebrows furrowing as he found himself yet again feeling anxious to know how the others were handling Bunnymund at this moment. To his surprise a mirthless smile crossed Pitch's features as he listened.

"Indeed.", he said quietly, his golden eyes searching for something between the trunks of the trees on the other side of the clearing, "I do think that Sandman was most likely the one who was opposing to the idea the most."

Jack shook just his head before replying. It was strange how quickly his anger had vanished. He felt that gut-churning guilt again when he understood that he was actually at ease talking with his former enemy like this. He did not know when he had come to grow so calm around someone like Pitch. Or maybe it was because Pitch had changed.

"No, he was actually standing up for me when I volunteered to go and look for you."

Pitch gave him a look of surprise but Jack did not give him the chance to add anything to that.

"Bunny was the one who was fuming."

"Justifiably.", Pitch retorted in a small voice, "It was I who made him the last of the Pookas."

Beside him Jack groaned, wiping at his face with his hand. The teenager felt tired all of a sudden.

"I miss having normal human problems."

Pitch suppressed what could have been the ghost of a smirk. It might have been offending and it did not suit the situation or the things they were discussing. Instead he kept his features carefully neutral.

"So, what do you suppose we do?"

Jack was crouched on the ground, massaging his temples with both his hands. He let his blue eyes look the man up and down again. He exhaled before rising again. He let his staff twirl a little and instantly, the unruly grass blades became layered with ice and frost.

"Hiding won't solve anything.", his voice was grave and did not suit his young appearance. It was a reminder of how old he truly was even if he still acted on childish impulses.

"You and I should…"

Pitch snapped his attention back to Jack when the boy's voice died down. He was staring at something in the distance, a glowing blue light coming out of the trees. Slowly he approached it, Pitch following suit. He could tell what it was and Jack's reaction was one he had not expected.

He watched as the blue butterfly came flying towards them. Pitch had his hand already outstretched, ready to let it take refuge in his coat when it suddenly steered towards the only other person on the clearing. Jack was staring at it as though someone had slapped him. He too held out his hand (clumsily catching his staff before it could connect with the ground) and the beetle settled down on it elegantly, flapping its wings one or two times.

Jack looked at it with huge eyes, mouth hanging open in amazement. Pitch bit back the pang of jealousy that was wriggling inside his chest like some restless animal. It was strange how docile his companion was when it had never met another person but him.

What Jack whispered next made him feel like someone had pulled a rug from under his feet.

"But…", the boy stammered looking at him in bewilderment, " but I thought that it had disappeared already."

Jack blinked a few times, even went to pinch himself with his free arm but it was still there: The snow butterfly he had created nearly a century ago. Pitch was at a loss, not understanding what was transpiring. He could not know about his friend's origins.

"You know him?", he asked, intrigued as to how there could be any recognition on that face when it shouldn't be there.

Jack still looked at him, exhaling and his shoulders slumping a little. He looked away briefly, biting on his lower lip before having enough confidence to face Pitch's inquisitive look.

"I created him.", he replied calmly.

There was a silence and the butterfly used that opportunity to make itself comfortable on Pitch's shoulder. He could feel a slight chill as its legs touched down on his shoulder and that was when it all fell into place in his mind, like when you found the long-lost piece of a puzzle whose image did not make any sense until you found it finally.

The blue glow, the coldness it emitted, the reason why it needed water so badly, why it couldn't take the heat of a warm spring day even… He had the sudden urge to sit down but unfortunately the bench was out of reach.

He rolled his tongue absentmindedly. It was as though his feelings that were in turmoil had tied it in a knot. Jack Frost first seemed unable to form a sentence himself although he was racking his brain to find the right words. He had admitted to what he had done, so how was he to continue?

"I never thought he would remain longer than a few minutes.", he confessed, chuckling nervously and scratching at the back of his head in embarrassment. To say the situation was less than awkward would have been the most blatant as well as the most pathetic lie in the world or in history.

After a while it became silent again. Jack fingered the wood of his staff, waiting for a reply.

"He saved me."

Jack's head perked up at the soft whisper. He frowned in confusion but Pitch was not looking at him really, he seemed to be talking to himself.

"When I was in that underground cave, he saved me. He helped me remember who I was, before I became the Nightmare King, before I released the ones I had to guard."

Jack listened with baited breath. Could it be that…

Pitch looked up at him, the defeated, painful, tormented smile of a father who had lost his family on his lips. It tore at Jack's heart. It would have even if he had willed himself not to feel sorry for the man in front of him.

"I once had a family, a daughter. She really liked them, butterflies.", he gently stroked one of the beetle's wings as if to make a point, "If it weren't for him.", he looked Jack in the eye, "If it weren't for you creating him, I might still be down there, torn and twisted by the shadows."

Jack scratched up a bit of dirt with the end of his staff, avoiding eye contact. He felt happy for some reason he couldn't fathom and he felt bad because it had something to do with the one person he was convinced it should not be related with. But what if it was true? What if he had helped Pitch? It was amazing to think that such a small gesture, he had almost forgotten about, could have had such an impact. Instantly he was reminded of Bunnymund and that not all of their problems could be solved this easily.

With effort he looked at Pitch. He was watching him too but Jack could not see that malevolence and scheming glinting in those now brilliantly golden eyes. He noticed with a start that the dirty silver that had dulled them was gone.

"Why did you do it?"

Jack blinked in surprise when the Boogeyman addressed him again. Understanding he had not caught on, Pitch repeated his question.

"Oh, well…", Jack mumbled uncomfortably, "It didn't feel right, letting you all alone in that hole. It is just like you said back then.", he smiled tentatively, "I already understand what it is like when no one cares."

Pitch nodded but his face became creased with worry.

"What did you want to say about the issue with me being chosen as a Guardian? Surely, none of them will appreciate me joining them."

It was true. Even if he was ready to give Pitch a second chance, it would be much more difficult to convince the others. He did not even want to imagine how Bunnymund would react, should he be in the same room as the one who had killed all of his kind. Tooth held a grudge against him for putting the fairies into cages as far as he knew and North…wouldn't be very happy either. Jack could still see his face when the Russian had told him about the time Pitch had corrupted the Djinni he had invented. He could still hear the crack from a block of ice handled with too much force out of anger.

The winter elf sighed. The situation truly seemed hopeless the only ray of light being that Sandy was at least willing to give it a try.

"Honestly? I don't know.", he admitted finally. He knew that whatever he had tried to suggest earlier was just doomed to failure. He wasn't anything near as wise as Sandy and not half as persuasive as North. He unconsciously fumbled with his coat as if it could grant him any kind of strength or as if it held the answer to all the problems he was facing.

He was just about to say something to lighten the mood at least the tiniest bit when a boisterous voice made him and Pitch tense and turn around frantically: "Found zyou!"

Emerging from between the line of trees to their left were none other than North, Tooth and Sandy. Their faces held the same seriousness but to Jack it was already a miracle that they had come. Noticing someone was missing he craned his neck to see if he was there, hoping against hope that maybe they had done the impossible. When he spied a pair of long ears and blue fur his face broke into a grin that would have put to shame any other child on a Christmas Eve.

"Bunny!", he exclaimed, running off towards them.

Without a word the Pooka raised one of his paws, making Jack stop in his tracks instantly. Bunny did not look at him and his face fell as if he had been scolded for a silly mistake.

"Before ya' say anything", he looked up to see Jack giving him the look like he was a lost child seeking guidance, "I am not happy with this."

Jack glared back pouting, clearly expressing what he was thinking: As if he didn't know that already. But once he caught Tooth's less than sympathetic gaze he pulled himself together and she went back to giving him a small hidden smile.

"Ya' have ta' thank Sandy. He told us evrythin'."

The Guardian of dreams gave an affirmative nod but his attention was focused on the man who hadn't moved from the spot since their sudden arrival. He gave Jack a knowing smile. He was the only one that had paid attention to the small blue light in shape of a butterfly before it disappeared inside the Boogeyman's coat. It was better if it stayed their little secret for now until the others were ready.

Jack gave him a weak grin before turning to Bunnymund with a solemn face. He knew from own experience that the Pooka was not one to let go of past wrong-doings so easily. It would take time and patience for him and Pitch to eventually accept each other. But Jack was ready to give the man a second chance and if they were already here... maybe they also were ready.

With a nod he signaled Pitch it was safe to come closer. Reluctantly he did so, accepting what was to be his new path. His golden eyes briefly flashed towards the moon. He hoped deep down that he could make it up to the ones he had wronged and as he approached the Guardians he couldn't help thinking that things happened for a reason as the butterfly inside his coat stirred slightly.

* * *

"Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery."  
― J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

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_The End_

Author's Note

This is by far the biggest project I ever begun and that I ever managed to finish. I have been neglecting my writing for a while now. I felt sad, I was depressed because I had the feeling that I was not doing a good enough job – not with my fanfictions, not at home and not at work either.

It made me crawl into a small shell and I only wrote in secret, too ashamed to publish what I had written.

When I went to see Rise of the Guardians I suddenly had a feeling: "You have to write something about this!"

It started as a One-Shot and with great reluctance did I first publish it on dA. I was really desperate that it would be simply looked over but some people heard my cry and answered it and I am really grateful for that. Without them, this whole series would never have become what it is now!

I thank KairaKara101 and Galimatias on dA for they gave me back my courage to write.

I thank moonpuppy4 on dA, Eullie, the-ice-cold-alchemist, TheBoyWonder, Alana-kittychan and MisteryMaiden on for their wonderful reviews.

I thank GraphiteDoll on dA because a great artist like her allowed me to use her drawings as the cover art for the One-Shots.

And I thank all of you that have been following this series and who have faved it!

Thank you all so much!

And a big thank you for my friend natschi on dA for without her discussions this work would never have come into existance!

I will now be concentrating on "The Secrets of the Worlds" and finish my One-Shot for the TFP fandom.


End file.
